I've calmed down a touch.

I played a couple hours of MiniGolf. Got my score down to a 23. Best on the Tech Desk is 21, and that just happened.

I highly recommend playing that golf game. It's a little frustrating at first, but once you get used to it, it's fun.

Promise.

I wish I hadn't read it. I really do.

Ok. Read this article, and wonder what's wrong with the world. Me, I'm too disgusted to make a coherent comment about it.

I've got a great idea. Let's get all our troops out of Iraq, airlift Saddam back into power, and then see if these assholes are still stringing civilians, for fuck's sake, civilians from bridges. If we do it, it's anti-Islam. If they do it, it's jihad.

We may not be the greatest country when it comes to foreign policy, let's face it, we're perceived as bullies and assholes, but when we pull out all our money and troops, then we're assholes for letting shit go down. I'm not pro-Bush, never was, but what I am right now is sick of this fucking war and sick of all the bullshit that goes on because people won't just accept other people.

I'm going to go crawl into a corner and take a nap. Wake me when it's over.

For my next trick...

I'm going to singlehandedly improve the computer knowledge of all our customers.

I'm going to teach them what "the beginning" really is. I'm going to teach them why "on your platform" answers no questions. I'm going to teach them that "I'm short 50 in lean hogs with a 850 put and want to see what type of selling strategy I should use" is a good question to ask someone who has actually traded before.

The answers, of course, go like this:
1) It's your desktop, fool. Go to Bofo Community College two towns over and figure out what an "on" button is before asking me was esc means.
2) The company I work for is owned by another company. We support both websites and both of their "Express" versions. They're not a whole lot different, but, I need to know what you use in order to properly help you. That's just how it is. Learn what you're looking at by following the instructions in response #1.
3) I am not a trader. I would not like to become a trader. I have no ambitions to do this. If I say this to you, the next logical thought in your head should be "is this person who knows nothing about the thing I need advice about a good person to ask advice about said thing?" The answer is no, my dear idiot, and you should keep that in mind instead of asking me the same question again. I will turn into Randall from Clerks before you know it, and you'll spend half your life wondering how you lost so much because you bought 3,000 contracts of butter. I am whimsical. I like to make subtle jokes that take you a week to realize your folly. I have a dry, evil wit.

And I'm not afraid to use it.

Now with comments!

After wasting time not learning HTML and being generally lazy about it, I've finally added a comments feature to the good ol' homestead. Feel free to comment away at my minor ruminations(all three of my readers), especially if you can write better than I can. It may be the only way I'll learn.

Thanks to The Redhead for pointing me to Comment This!, me new comment host. Eventually, I will start fine-tuning said comments so it's all pretty. For now, I'm working on other things.

The Angriest Man in Chicago rears his bald head.

I don't know who you are to slander my friends, but I will let you know that my loyalty to friends is absolute, and my ability to carry a grudge and act upon said grudge is rivaled by few, if any, that I know.

And I'm looking for you.

On feeling pity.

I'm really not sure that was exactly what I was feeling, but that's the best way I can describe it.

As I was walking to work this morning, I saw a group of people who were looking frantically lost, turning their map over and over again. I can understand this. I've lived in NYC, one of the more confusing cities to get around in(especially the outer boroughs), and been to Boston, which has taken years to be able to navigate even reasonably by myself. That's not the point, though. They were Amish, and they were standing outside Union Station at 7 o'clock in the morning. They seemed so lost, and no one seemed willing to help. I offered, and they said they were fine. I went about my way, hoping that they would find their way- who am I, after all, to stand in the way of the male I-can-find-my-own-way-dammit ego? I don't think it was pity at that point. Maybe it was guilt. I felt somewhat relieved that I was not born into their religion and lifestyle, at the same time, I felt sad for their plight of being so born. I guess I'm calling that pity.

In my experience, and this may be what happened this morning during the Amishs' encounter with the English, those who are given pity rarely want it. I know that when I'm down and out, I don't want other's pity. I just want to get through what I need to get through. It's hard enough to acknowledge to yourself that you're in a bad situation and you can't see your way out, but to have someone, even with the best intentions in mind and uncondescendingly approaches you to help, you don't typically feel better. You feel worse that you had to have pity taken on you.

At least I do.

I can say I knew him when... Part II

A banner week for my alma mater.

Not only did the craziest man I never knew place his Ph.D announcement in my alumni magazine, but now, one of the professors is in trouble with India. I never took a class with him, at least that I can remember, but I knew enough people who did and spoke with him more than a few times.

Strange days, indeed.

More later on my thoughts on pity. I'm still percolating.

Getting more things done.

Ok, I'm far to happy with my accomplishments of the day today. What's next, getting my taxes done?

Probably. I'm just lazy and don't get to them right away. I usually don't want to know.

I rewrote one pub quiz round, improved another one, and sent all 8 rounds to my best friend for her review.

It's gonna be so damn fun.

Getting things done.

Somedays, I really don't mind the fact that I have to be here so early in the morning. Sometimes, it really helps. For instance, I'm getting a whole slew of stuff done this morning, and I'm happy about that. I've finally updated my MS ride blog, too. Something I neglected to do for a month.

I stopped by the MS Illinois offices yesterday to pick up materials for the pub quiz. It's nice to see those folks, as they're so supportive. Not to mention they boost my ego tremendously by telling me how great I'm doing(for the record, if you didn't click the link, I'm just short of $2000).

Good news all around. I've got a poster for the pub quiz brewing, and I'm rewriting a round to balance out what I've got so far.

Karma karma karma karma karma chameleon!

The system works. Here's proof.

Cracks me up.

Chasing the cyber-ambulance.

[Disclaimer- apologies to my friends and family who are lawyers. This was just too easy.]

There's now a database that lawyers can use to pick up clients. It works so well, that you can get information from them within hours of your arrest.

It certainly beats the hell out of chasing ambulances.

Keep him in your heart for a while.

RIP, Peter Ustinov.

Weekend Update

Let's see.

Saturday night's plans to see the Tuffets were almost thwarted by the evil gods of the no-hot-water-for-my-shower. Those gods were driven back to their ethereal plane by my good friend and neighbor, who has a hot water heater in her building that actually works. The band was incredible. The show was very well done.

The rest of the evening involved barhopping and food. Although I can't really recommend the diner we ate at, it was nice of them to be open.

More unfortunately, I went to bed at 5, and woke up at 8, cursing the sun. It was too bright, and I couldn't get back to sleep. I did get in some really good biking this weekend, not as much as I wanted to get done, but it was far too windy yesterday to get too far.

Last night saw a victorious Schlitzkreig during pub quiz. We were happy as hell. Especially me.

Sadly, it's Monday, and I have to be awake and working. Two things I didn't want to be today.

I can say I knew him when...

I received my bimonthly alumni magazine today, which contained something absolutely amazing. The craziest man I have ever known, and I've known some real weird guys in my time, successfully defended his dissertation. He now holds a Ph D in philosophy.

This man was our floor's volleyball mascot. This man peed in his sink because the bathroom was too far away. This man held my hair as I puked. This man showed up to floor meetings naked. He wore a lime green tuxedo to my birthday party. I have a picture of him performing an "elephant." He is the stuff of legends.

Congrats, my old friend. You are amazing. Doctor.

Lazy, foggy day

I went out and did a nice little bike ride today. At points, it seemed almost too dangerous out, because the fog was so thick. it was kinda eerie.

That's all.

SNAFU

Ok, my hangover has become significantly more manageable. Sadly, my life is still screwy.

I didn't get my traditional shower and shave this morning. Fortunately I showered last night, otherwise I'd be really smelly.

It's almost 70 degrees out, and I'm stuck in the office. I should have called in sick.

At least I've got a quiet, pleasant evening planned. That's the only saving grace I have right now.

Things I've learned in the last half hour:

Thinking that I can wake up in the morning is sometimes desperately foolish.

Especially after a 8-2 rout of the Blackhawks.

Taxi drivers aren't perfect. They can run into roadblocks, too.

Sleep isn't for the weak, it's for the tired. Like me.

Overtipping taxi drivers isn't always a good thing to do.

Mr. No-Depth-Perception meets Ms. Crack Whore

Remember those books from the 70's and 80's which had the cute little cartoons on them of the characters? The ones with the names like Mr. Grumpy and Ms. Busybody? You can now create your own!

Go here.

I'm having too much fun with it.

The Shutdown

My friends are often commenting to me how baffling it is that I can work from 7 until 3:30, then get home and go to class for up to 5 hours, and still have the energy for a social life, and do all of these things without caffeine.

The secret is, I can't always do it.

Last night, after getting home from work, I had my usual hankering for tacos. I acted on it by biking to the Jewel, buying ingredients, and then making tacos. I was happy as a clam on the couch, licking my chops and watching the Simpsons. Next thing I'm conscious of is my roommate coming home, and it's after 7. Needless to say, I didn't make it in last night. Do I feel guilty about this? Hell no. I'm not a model student, and I probably, had I made it in, fallen right back asleep. It's that kind of class, which isn't meant to insult the class, just to say that it's something I could pass in my sleep, and might just.

So, I shut down last night. Tried like hell to stay awake so I wouldn't wake up at 2 am, and still managed to oversleep. It's a wonderful world, no?

English, Psychology, Philosophy, and Religion

Why did I mention all these in my title? C'mon folks. I'm going to talk about them.

I just finished my English homework, boring and silly as it was, but it's done. And had I known it was going to only take me 45 minutes, I would have done it in my sleep last weekend. Enough on that. I'm amazed I've made it this far without sounding snobbish. Damn. Too late.

Last night's Psychology class started out on a note that I know all too well: States of Consciousness. We spent a very long time talking about dreams. I, of course, was initially going to make sleep and dream research my career when I was first in college, oh so many years ago. What's starting to bother me about the course is that I don't believe that my philosophy and my teacher's philosophy are completely in synch. I could be wrong. We'll have to see. I do enjoy his teaching style. He's very honest, open, and will literally talk about anything. He's probably the type of teacher I would be if I had the patience.

The byproduct of this is that I've resurrected my old desire to write a movie. Back in the day, I was inspired by taking a philosophy class and the chance viewing of a movie called The Hairdresser's Husband. In the movie, there are two peripheral characters who, whenever they are on screen, are arguing about death. I decided that it would be fun to write a movie where the two main characters went through their day always arguing whether or not the other existed. I know it's a little silly, and probably not that interested in a full-length film, but the idea was that my friend and former roommate would be taking a bath while I shaved while we bitterly assaulted each other with quotations, arguments, and counterarguments. Disclaimer: Now that this is time and date stamped, you can't steal it. Take that. Of course, it's not like you would, would you?

I might just consult with the Redhead, and see if she would lend me some knowledge and advice.

I can resist anything but temptation.

That's a fortune cookie that I got when I was in high school. I still have it. Most people would call me a pack-rat. I call it absurd superstition- I keep all the fortunes that I want to be true. Maybe I am a pack-rat.

Last night, after school and picking up a check donation for my MS ride, I headed to my local Osco for a frozen pizza(it's more economical than ordering one, and I had one hell of a craving) and noticed the one thing I can never resist, in almost any store: The $9.99 bin. This one was full of DVDs. Nothing really striking, but movies I would like to own, especially if they're only 10 bucks. So, after picking up my Red Baron and some lunches for work, I came down with a vengeance on said bin. I picked up L.A. Story, Total Recall, and Abre Los Ojos. My roommate and I were up rather late, at least for me on a school night, watching Total Recall. The other two I'll probably save for this weekend, after one of my famous bike rides, unless something more fun comes up. It probably will. It's supposed to be wonderful this weekend.

Shameless promotion, Part III:

Another friend's band, Phoenix 68, is playing Friday April 2nd at Sylvie's Triple D, 1902 W Irving Park.

It's $3 American to get in, beers are relatively cheap, and the show will probably start around 9 or so.

Hope to see you there.

Shameless promotion, Part II:

This one's really, really important.

On Wednesday, April 14th, at 8pm, I will be holding my MS Ride fundraising pub quiz! This will take place at Ginger's Ale House at the corner of Ashland and Grace. It's $10 per person(please remember it goes to charity), and includes a buffet!

Here's the FAQ:
What is pub quiz?
For a pub quiz, you answer trivia questions as a team of up to 5 people on a provided answer sheet. I will be doing 8 rounds, including one picture round(where you name what's in the picture) and a match round. Put together a crack team, and come have fun!
What, exactly does my $10 get me?
There'll be food, and prizes for the participants. Sorry, I can't afford to pay for your drinks, too. Not to mention the good feeling of helping out those stricken with MS.
How can I find out more?
E-mail me at daveahrens@lycos.com. I promise I'll answer.

It's the game of the week:

Like Mini-golf, but don't have a local course? Is it cold where you live, and there aren't any indoor courses? Why not play online!

Here's the link, my best score so far is a 32. Go forth, waste time, and have fun.

Shameless promotion, Part I:

On Saturday, those of you who reside in and around the Chicago Area have the opportunity to see my friend's band, The Tuffets at Gunther Murphy's for the low-low price of $8 American. Drinks are at 9, show at 10.

Stay tuned for more shamless promotion action!

Strangers in the night...

So, yesterday, my friend e-mailed me that she would be all of 6 blocks away from me at 3:30, which is when I get off work. What happened after that? We had fun. We went for dinner for me, and a couple drinks, and a lot of conversation. We have good conversations. Relationships, good and bad, plans for the weekend, we covered it all. I felt very good at the end of our talk. I've found a direction that I want to take.

What was really funny about last night, was later on, at 9:30, the same friend called again, and I was off to the bar down the street from my house for a nightcap(and a game of pool). I was inspired to play pool when I noticed a woman I used to have a crush on walked in and sat down. This is a person who seems very compatible with your humble narrator, but we never really clicked- due mostly to the fact that we never got any real one-on-one time, something that would have helped us out.

I was there talking to someone else, so I wasn't in the mood to have that reunion-type conversation, especially since it would take away from my other conversation. If you catch my meaning.

The bad part is I really wanted to talk to her as well, but again, didn't get the chance. Perhaps it's fate.

I'd say it's something like that.

Can I get a goddamn?

It's been busy here this morning(and afternoon, now)- our boss is on vacation, and another of my co-workers is on vacation as well. It's been busy, but time's been flying by.

Sadly, I haven't been able to work on any of the things I needed to work on. I'll have to try again tonight, I guess. Some of those things were things I really wanted done, too.

Damn.

Oh well. I'm off to make lemonade.

Thursday

I get to do one of my favorite things on Thursday night. I'm going to the Wild v. Blackhawks game. I will be living in luxury from my roommate's company's lower-level box. It's a game of little importance, between two last-placed teams, but hey, it's my team against Chicago's team, and most of the people won't be rooting with me.

It's a notoriously good time, too. There's something about having your own box that makes life so good.

An exciting morning for both of us...

My bedroom windows overlook the awning covering my building's front porch. This morning, my dear cat, Mia, found a squirrel sitting atop said awning. She was very excited. There was some serious tail wagging and muffled hunter's miaows. In the meantime I was sorting laundry.

Rapture!

I think the old sleep monitor has kicked back in. It used to be, several years ago, that I would always sleep exactly 6 1/2 hours. No matter what time I went to bed, I would wake up exactly 6 1/2 hours later. It was cool, especially since I didn't really have an alarm clock at the time.

That's the story this morning, as silly and incomplete as it seems.

I'm not sure whether to use this for good or evil...

I think we all know that I'm going to evil.

Read this, laugh. My fourth grade teacher wasn't someone I ever wanted to see the boobies of.

And boy oh boy, I couldn't leave this one alone. Is there anyone left in this country who doesn't think this guy is a total fucking crook?

If there is, I'll not only give you a dollar, but I'll walk down to the store with you so you can get a clue.

Billy Corgan told me

Emptiness is loneliness, and loneliness is cleanliness and cleanliness is godliness, and god is empty just like me. That's why my project to clean up my e-mail in-box is now complete. Something like that.

I'm not making sense today. I'm too tired.

But, I've got a clean in-box! Hey!

It's hard to believe, I know, but I...

...completely forgot that today is Friday. So, without further ado...

The Friday Five

If you...

1. ...owned a restaurant, what kind of food would you serve?
It would be a 24-hour, 365-days-a-year taco place. Always open. And it would deliver. Anywhere.

2. ...owned a small store, what kind of merchandise would you sell?
CD's. No doubt.

3. ...wrote a book, what genre would it be?
Probably something that would seem sci-fi-ish, Vonnegut-y.

4. ...ran a school, what would you teach?
In the tradition of my favorite teacher ever, math. Probably gym, too, just so I can get some excercise.

5. ...recorded an album, what kind of music would be on it?
A strange mix between Smog, the Pogues, and Morphine. Throw in a dash of Soul Coughing and Johnny Cash, too. I'll stop before I get too far here.

A thing of immaculate beauty, part II:

You're probably wondering what happened to part I. It's somewhere, lost in cyberspace. Bon voyage, dear friend.

So, exhaustion set in right about the time I finished my campus-grille bacon cheddar burger and fries(beggars, and those in hurries, can seldom be choosers). Class was hard to pay attention to. Very hard. So I didn't. I cleaned up my e-mail in box, something I haven't done since around August. I'm proud to say more than 200 messages have been filed or 86'ed. Feels good. Sad part: I'm still not done. So, as I'm walking home from school, there was a sudden, wonderful realization that filled my heart and mind: between me and home, there is a Trader Joe's. Wine. Food. Cheap wine. Good food. Suddenly, it was all so clear. I could stop there, buy some healthy, good food(to make up for my campus grille indiscretion) and some cheap, but surprisingly good wine. I walked a few more yards, and saw the Addison bus coming to the stop ahead of me. Get thee to the store, get thee wine and snack, and get thee to home for libations and sleep!

Four bottles of wine, a package of organic roast beef and three Thai food insta-snacks: $21.42.

Upon returning to my domicile, I placed my booty(not my ass people) in my small, already quarter-filled winerack. I took a proud step back to view my masterpiece. It was wonderful. Sadly, the only person around was my cat, and she doesn't have the appreciation of the arts that some of my friends have. I would have to share this memory with only myself, as the first bottle is already half done.

Bottom's up, y'all.

Is it my baby picture, Mini-Dave, or my future son?

Judge for yourselves.

To drive, or fly? To drive, to drive or fly? Drive, drive, drive, fly, fly, fly?

Of course, sung to the Itchy and Scratchy theme, for those not playing along with me today.

I'm forced with the same old dilemma: should I fly or should I drive?

I've got my dad's b-day next month. It's a big one, so I'm going to make the best effort.

Then, there's a wedding in DC in June. More fun.

Such planning.

My friend A just sent me this, and I laughed. Before anybody thinks it's inappropriate, I would ask you to remember that my friend A is Punjabi.

Lousy Smarch weather.

I'm tired of snow. But it keeps falling.

At the very least, it's not accumulating.

Yep.

Convenience vs. Zero Tolerance

In the news this morning, the Swiss Army Knife people have made a knife with a memory stick included. This is great(and I might mention that there are only 200 days until my birthday), but it will never sell, at least not to the American High School student, who would probably get suspended for 10 days for bringing a weapon to school. This, of course, doesn't make me want one any less. Honestly, I don't think I've ever owned a Swiss Army knife, maybe now it's time.

Now, back to zero tolerance. I've been thinking quite a bit about personal freedom, since I took the Politopia.com quiz. Zero tolerance policies violate personal freedoms, not only for the person breaking the policy, but for the person obligated to enforce said policy. Think about it, if you're a school principal and someone brings their homework in on a memory stick to print it out, it's ok. No problems. But if you attach that memory stick to a couple knives, a scissors, a nailfile and a toothpick, despite how silly it seems, you're forced to suspend this student for bringing a weapon to school. Zero tolerance forces you. Otherwise you are in violation of the policy, and rest assured your ass will be held accountable. You can't make the decision to be lenient. You are screwed.

Is the system flawed? Hell yes. I think we all know that, but the real question is, do I have a solution? Well, not yet. When I do, I will run for office, and there will be smear campaigns about all the rotten stuff I've done over the years. Don't worry, I won't jerk you around about it, either. I'll answer any question fairly posed. Why is all this on my mind this morning? That's easy. My English teacher last night had us write an essay on what we think teachers should do beyond the basic 3R's. After I read my essay aloud, he said I should run for president(he also said it was excellently written- I'm waiting for him to tell me that I don't need his class, but I'm not holding my breath).

Ok. Now that I've rambled out of control(again) I'm going to find something else to occupy myself with for a bit.

Baby, you can drive my car:

My horoscope from The Onion:

Libra: (Sept. 23—Oct. 23)
There's no one less deserving of an ever-present entourage of beautiful, talented backup singers than you, but no one said life was fair.

Just sharing. And accepting applications. Must be able to go "doot doo-doot doo doo doot tedoot doot" repeatedly.
EOE.

Somewhere between Al Gore and Jesse Jackson, you'll find me.

News to me. I never thought my ideals would be shared, or even close to either man. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Check it out here. It's a fun little quiz. Thanks to Joey for finding it.

Sometimes I go to far on the IS-H

Ok. National Lampoon has yarmulkes for sale. They're funny. I can't help but to share. Apologies to those who take offense- don't kill the messenger, ok?

In addition, if I ever do marry a Jewish girl, I will go here and customize my tartan yarmulke. I promise.

Ok. I've got to get back to work.

The wearin' o' da green.

I'm Irish. Just a little, but it's there. I'm a lot of things, as I've discovered through my genealogy research, including a couple I never would have suspected(French) and some interesting facts, for instance:

1- my great(X5) grand uncle was a general on George Washington's staff.
2- my ancestors helped found Providence, RI(oh yeah- I'm that hot, baby!).
3- one of my grandmother's ancestors fought in the American Civil War, was wounded, captured, and released by the south.
4- the oldest traced member of my family tree was an artist, and one of his paintings is owned by the Met in NYC.

Just some cool things, inspired by Joey's family history lesson. In light of this information, I would request that any wedding planning include a lengthy discussion of kilts.

Or, at the very least, plaid yarmulkes.

P.S.- my spell checker wanted to replace yarmulkes with wrinkles. Note that on this site they don't actually have plaid ones, but check out the sports yarmulkes.

I'm really far too busy to post, but...

What the hell does he have to laugh at?

Read the other ones. Some of these guys are kinda funny, especially if you think like a 10 year old.

Call me Blanche.

I, realizing that there was no way for me to get to school on time, hailed a cab 2 block from my house. I should really buy a car.

Unbeknownst to me, there was already a passenger. She appeared to be a nun, and was in a wheelchair. She had instructed the driver to pick me up to see if I was headed in the same direction as her.

I was touched. It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me all week.

Needless to say, when the fair had only reached $9.70 by the time we were at school, I gave the driver $10, wished them both a good day, and headed to class.

Just as a reminder, to all those who may have forgotten:

I do unto others as they do unto me.

I was almost crying- laughing that is.

There is obviously a reason to not laugh at this, but I had a hard time not going ahead and giggling. I know that it is wrong to laugh at people less fortunate, but damn.

Someone needs to go back and watch the old Young Ones episode called Demolition. During which Neal explains the same thing to Rick.

A dumb move for me...

After last week's problems with the stomach, you'd think I would have learned my lesson: read labels.

Today, the things I thought were red peppers in my frozen dinner lunch were not. They were things that make me throw up.

Fortunately, I have a wonderful pink elixr to combat this. If I work quickly.

Pretty dumb for a guy who spends half his blog time bitching about how stupid other people are.

Run Hamster, Run!

It's not hard. Just move your little legs and feet really fast, and the wheel will go.

My last customer almost got the following conversation out of me(his responses will be approximated as best as I can):

Me: Sir, you've probably been trading for years, right? Calling in orders and such.
Customer: Yes.
Me: Ok. Let me ask you this. Do you know how to drive a tractor?
Customer: Well, yes, I learned when I was a child.
Me: And you can drive a car as well, right?
Customer: Yes.
Me: Ok, so when you were learning how to drive a car, you didn't just hop in and start going, you had some practice with a parent, maybe some classes, that kind of thing right?
Customer: Yes, that's how it went, driving a car is different from driving a tractor.
Me: Ok, so logically, maybe you should take a class on using a computer before you switch to online trading- a nice night class at the Community College or something, so you're better prepared for trading online.
Customer: Really?
Me: Either that, or go back to driving a tractor.

I should've prefaced this with the fact that I do know how to drive a tractor. My grandfather taught me when I was in my early 20's. It's different enough to make it unsafe to not have coaching. Although I could have eventually figured it out, I definitely needed the coaching, especially since the accelerator isn't anywhere near where you'd expect it.

Sorry. I get mad sometimes. Usually when I deal with someone who doesn't listen to the directions I give them, and they don't know jack about running a computer.

The bubble has burst.

I used to think I was such hot shit, wearing funky ties so I wasn't a complete corporate sellout. My famous Beatle's Yellow Submarine tie has been outdone.

I just saw someone wearing a tie that has the muppets from Sesame Street. I must hand my crown to him.

And go tie shopping. Badly.

In the news:

I wish this wasn't real. I'm horrified.

I wish this didn't take so long. That's wrong.

This, this and this made me giggle. Just a little.

I voted.

It's not because I'm extraordinarily enthusiastic about politics. It's because I believe that you haven't earned the right to bitch unless you participate. To paraphrase the Beastie Boys(and numerous lotto commercials) "you've got to be in it to whine."

On my way to my polling place, I notice two pamphleteers, as I call them, waiting for anyone walking to the polling place. I immediately was annoyed, as they were standing by the alley just north of my polling place(which also happens to be one of my neighborhood watering holes, Sylvie's). Of course they eyed me as someone to give stuff to. I didn't want any of their stuff, though. I just wanted to be left alone, to exercise my right to vote in peace. I had also forgotten my tie, so I had to go back, but that's really moot, actually. So, as I walk up, the guy asks me if I'm headed to vote, I answered yes, and he tried to hand me a flier, as though I hadn't already made up my mind about who I was voting for. I refused his paper. He said that he hoped I would remember to vote for [insert state senate candidate's name]. I turned around and told him and his partner that their car was illegally parked.

I can be such a bitch when I need to.

There are tears welling in my eyes...

For two reasons- #1: I just read this article, which makes me so happy that there's someone out there who sees things the way I see it.

#2: My co-worker just called today "hamster wheel day."

Oh, the rapture!

Let's get a little three in one over here!

My callers today are taking me to mind-bogglingly low places in my psyche.

That is to say, I've taken too many calls from morons today. I'm full. I shouldn't complain, I still like my job, but sometimes people can really bring me down. Sadly, today is one of those days.

The only further thing I'll say is that if I tell you to go to a website, that doesn't mean I want you to google the url. Type it into the address bar like a good user. Dammit.

I might add that as I tried to google three in one(as in the oil for the hamster wheels), I came across what will undoubtedly inspire some serious blogging.

More later. Maybe.

A wild weekend, to be sure.

I had a great time this weekend, spent most of it relaxing and not getting the things done that I needed to get done. I wasn't one of those idiots marching in one of the many parades. I'm not a parade type of guy. To me, standing still and watching people walk by is about as exciting as watching paint dry.

Friday was a fun night with friends, dinner, during which we had a nice talk about my recent relationship-y type expedition, lots of drinks, and then, just for fun, some more drinks. Saturday, I watched both Star Wars and Empire Strikes Back, both special editions. I made plans for a nice easy, early night out, which were completely foiled when I was captured and kidnapped from the Ten Cat Tavern by the same woman who took a picture up my kilt 2 weeks before and her friend. After some video bowling and a lot of vodka, the decision was made to journey to a karaoke bar. After one failed attempt at finding parking near my favorite, the Hidden Cove, we wandered south to a bar called the Cafe Bong Ho. This bar could potentially replace all karaoke bars in the world as my favorite, mostly because of the environment. It's a little tiny hole in the wall and the song book contains songs in about 5 different languages, ranging from Spanish to Korean to Vietnamese. I was quite excited, and the drinks were rather cheap, which only served to encourage more singing. We sang several songs, including a solo job on "Break on Through" by The Doors, something I'm supremely proud of. Although my companions usually carried the weight(my range is low and limited, sadly), doing wonderful renditions of Landslide and House of the Rising Sun, and our final trio doing Livin' on a Prayer. After a quick stop at the late bar, it was off to bed for me, save for a drunk dialing call to one of my kidnappers.

Sunday was a relaxing, damn-I-should-get-my-stuff-one-today type day, where I got very little done. My roommate and I spent some serious couch time, watching Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure, Spies Like Us, and finally, Three Amigos! before I finally got some laundry done. Sadly, adjusting to doing homework again didn't really happen, so very little homework was done. Laundry, on the other hand, was partially done, and ironing was completed for at least 3 days this week, making my life slightly more convenient.

I guess it's time I did some work.

I meant to talk about this yesterday:

I have a new favorite saying to comment on someone's limited intellect:

"This guy couldn't run a hamster wheel."

It's just barely edging out my old favorite:

"He's not the sharpest stick in the sharp stick drawer."

Thought y'all'd like to know.

I'll be back!

Check it out, straight from the memory circuits of the Device Assembled for Violence and Exploration:

The cyborg name generator!

Special thanks to my friend A for finding it!

A random rant inspired by the Proopster.

Last night Greg Proops did a couple bits in his act that really stuck with me, but didn't really inspire me until just now.

I was thinking about The Redhead's post this morning about gay marriage. She said in her blog that politicians should be more worried about her dating a Canadian than whether or not two men or two women want to marry one another. I made a rather silly comment about it, and then recalled how the woman on Average Joe II revealed her big secret: She dated Fabio, and was subsequently dumped by the beau of her choice. Hilarious, no? He made a very valid point that hetero marriages are just so perfect: men who beat women, infidelity, all that jazz.

Our government is run by idiots- they're spending time concerned with steriods in baseball and limiting people's ability to express their love for one another than finding Osama or maybe justifying their own idiotic actions in Iraq. What's next: the House's official Oscar picks? The Congress argues over who gets to run their fantasy NASCAR league?

Here's the part that he ranted that I really liked:
It's about California, where a familiar story of an Austrian came to power in a politically apathetic state and then molded it to his ideaology. He was, of course, referring to Hitler and, subsequently, the Governator.

Another bit about that bit: he kept saying that in California, they've managed to elect a fictional character into office. Half my table said simultaneously: "again!"

Comedy is good, even if it is painful truths.

Someone I'd love to buy a beer.

Joey blogged about this wonderful act.

If only I lived that close to a movie theatre. I'd try that myself.

In the news...

I have so many possible courses of insult in reaction to this article, I can't possibly type fast enough to share them.

This makes me glad I don't see my family every day, much less share water rights with any of them. I might add that not only were these two cousins, they were also brothers-in-law. What's that about the acorn not falling far from the tree? Huh?

This guy has to feel good about installing his pond, too.

Crime doesn't pay, part 467.

Last but not least, proof that schools are bureaucratic nightmares(as if my own experiences didn't convince you).

The Proopster, the late night, and the train ride: A perspective.

Greg Proops was one funny guy last night. You'd think, having seen him on Whose Line so many times, that he's not that serious or bitter. He's just a happy-go-lucky funny guy. He's not. He's bitter, disturbed, and had this line, which I absolutely treasure, regarding Sting's new autobiography:

"...it sucks Satan's asshole with a goofy straw.... in prison."

Yeah, it's a little graphic, but it's still funny. He's got loads of jokes that are rather borderline in taste, which is something I like in a comedian. He was very happy to impart his feelings on things like GW and the war in Iraq, too. He's got a lot of passion, and he's damn funny about it.

This was just the beginning of the night, mind you. He was on for almost 2 hours, sure, but it was worth it. Afterwards, the five of us(I felt like such a macdaddy, hanging out with 4 girls) went to Corcoran's for a couple drinks(I said I would have one and leave, but stayed for 3), and some conversation, specifically love-life conversation, and finally headed out around 12. Then, it was time for the cab home, after dropping off two of my friends at yet another bar, I headed to my local watering hole for "a night cap."

Frankly, I should have just gone home. Now I'm that extra half-hour tired that I didn't need to be.

The odd, probably bad thing about the whole commute this morning is that whenever I'm more than say 7 minutes late to work is the day that I run into my boss in the elevator. It's a weird kismut thing, methinks.

I dunno. I need a nap.

Friday Five

1. What was the last song you heard?
Something in the Irish bar down by Zanie's. I can't for the life of me remember what it was, I was busy gabbing.

2. What were the last two movies you saw?
I watched Fletch the other day, before that, probably Lost in Translation.

3. What were the last three things you purchased?
Beer, a cab ride, and beer.

4. What four things do you need to do this weekend?
Laundry, badly; bike 30 or so miles, got to the library, and get some sleep.

5. Who are the last five people you talked to?
Two customers and three co-workers. Not in that order.

The world works in mysterious ways.

Despite having class until 7 tonight, I will be going to see the very funny Greg Proops tonight. This will undoubtedly lead to libations, and, subsequently, a hangover in the morning. Be afraid. I'll blog my eyes out, I'm sure.

I love my friends. They make me happy.

Big city
Big city bikes!

The Accordion Guy has blogged about something I care deeply about, cycling. Toronto has what sounds like, on paper, a good plan to make it's streets safer for both cyclists and motorists. I'm all for it. I have a certain respect for Chicago motorists, as well as a measured amount of disdain, as evidenced here, here, here, and undoubtedly numerous other places in my blog. I get mad at drivers, and I like to let them know, both here and on the street. The problem that I have is that most motorists completely ignore the laws that are meant to protect cyclists, and most cops never enforce any of these laws, even those brave enough to be on the bicycle patrol. I also will obey the rules meant to protect me and those around me(i.e., in almost every city ward it is illegal for an adult to ride on a sidewalk).

The problem is, I still feel completely vulnerable whenever I ride on the streets. I still get cut off. I still get mad. Two weekends ago I was in a bike lane when a motorist made a left turn in front of myself and my companion, went over a curb(not a ramp) into a parking lot nearly taking off their muffler, so they could get a parking spot on the perpendicular street. I bellowed at the driver "are you insane?" (I would mention at this point that I was so drastically amazed at the idiocy of this person's move that I could not swear.)

Why is it so hard to share the road? This is Chicago, the city of the big shoulders and all that crap. We've got wide streets here, we've got plenty of room for cars, SUV's, motorcycles, and yes, bikes. I share, will you share with me?

Enough on that. I could probably go for hours, after all.

That's just not enough.

The verdict is in. I'm not happy with it.

If I walk down the street, start tugging on someone's coat, and yelling at them, then throw a right while they're not looking, knock them out, then drive their head into the pavement, I AM GOING TO JAIL. No ifs ands or buts. Now, in hockey, part of your job is fighting. But there's no honor in jumping someone like that. It was cowardly and stupid. Revenge for Moore's previous open-ice hit? No. That was served in the 1st period, at 6:36, a fight with Matt Cooke. This was excessive, and undoubtedly the reason that people don't like hockey.

Enough on that. I hope that before next season, that the commissioner benches him until next March. He deserves it.

The Day of Reckoning.

At least it is for Todd Bertuzzi. He's got about 33 minutes before judgment is passed on his absolutely horrible act. If I'm not too engrossed in my Java book, I'll blog about it.

That's not a threat, it's a promise.

Other than that, I am surprisingly awake this morning. The ol' brain is working on all cylinders, and I'm somewhat happier than I expected to be this morning.

Let's talk about hockey, baby.

Here's the article about what should happen to Bertuzzi. You know what? I agree. Wholeheartedly.

Hitting is as much a part of hockey as shooting pucks. It's just the way the game is played now. I know, in the past, there wasn't nearly as much hitting, or fighting for that matter, and that you can still see some of that in the way that Olympic hockey is played. The players play the puck more than the body. It's a kinder, gentler form of hockey. There's the unwritten code of the game as well, the get them if they get you type situation. I understand that. And as said in the article, Steve Moore already paid his debt to the Canucks through a fight- this was just a frustrated player doing something completely boneheaded. I don't care if he feels bad. I'm sure Malvo feels bad about what he did, too, but that doesn't excuse what was done.

Duck! Two cents are flying!

Um.... WTF?

Could this be?

I don't even know how to react.

Things that make me happy.

Case in point: how using the bible to dictate how we should live can backfire on you. I mean, remember the separation of church and state?

That makes me happy.

Things I forgot about, school, and critical thinking.

Yesterday I was heading back to the train for my lovely commute home when I remembered that there was going to be some politicos at Union Station: Chicago's illustrious mayor, Illinois' illustrious governor, and John Kerry. Needless to say, it was a media and police circus, including my favorite branch of the CPD, the bicycle patrol. I would admit to you at this time that I once signed up to take the CPD exam, specifically because I wanted to be a bicycle patrolman. I digress. I had questions that I wanted answers to which I could have posed to all three of them, in order: Why tear up Meigs field in the middle of the night? Why not move to Springfield? and Why are you against gay marriage? Given, the nicest question was to the governor(our only nickname for him is Blago, we're just not as hip as CA), followed by my loaded question to Kerry, and then my insinuation of a dictatorial regime to my own mayor(if you didn't hear about the Meigs Field fiasco, you can read about it here). I know y'all expected me to keep the gay marriage topic on top, but there's not much for me to debate with Kerry, except that I'll have a very hard time voting for him.

In other news, I started school last night. It's hard to get back into the routine when you've had some time off, but last night was fun. My Java class should be interesting. I've already done some self-study on Java, so I've got a head start, and it's something I want to learn to be good at, as that'll help me achieve my age-old dream of computer game developer.

Then came my Psych class. I won't harp on the fact that that was my major the first time I went through college, and that although I didn't actually achieve a degree from said first time through, and that it's asinine that I would have to take that(along with English tonight) because I've already had those classes. That's not the point. The point is, I'll get an easy, easy A from the class(barring showing up drunk every night for the next 15 weeks) and I like the teacher. He's animated, casual, and very straightforward. I like that in a teacher. We spent most of the class in a "getting to know you" type fashion. He has little note cards on each of us, where he asked us all kinds of optional but personal questions. I answered all of them but "what are you good at" because I didn't, and don't like to brag. Plus, I couldn't come up with anything wise-assed enough to write to indicate that if he really wanted to know, he could ask me personally. Now, of course, I realize I should have written "being a wise-ass." That would probably have gotten some remarks out of him. We'll find out next week.

One of the things he was going on about last night at the end of class was critical thinking. He was playing around with us, trying to get us to decide when he was telling the truth and when he was lieing. It was fun. The Beavis and Buttheads of the class got all huh-huh-y when he said words like scrotum and clitoris, which annoyed me(we're supposed to be adults). But at the very end, he asked the class if we believed in god. It seemed like everyone said yes, but I know there were more folks like me(who don't) in the room. He then said that he had no proof that god existed. He then said that non-believers also had no proof. Then, the thing that made me a little mad happened.

He said that there's this theory about the beginning of the universe, the Big Bang Theory, we've all encountered it before, so I'm not going to explain it again here. He spoke about how the earth's rotations on its axis and around the sun, and how it has never missed that 365.25 days to make its trip around the sun, and how the other planets do the same thing, without problems. He then said that there cannot be order from chaos without some intervention- and gave the example that if you throw a bunch of marbles on the floor, that they will not form a pattern(as in a solar system) without someone helping that change. He then said that that proves the existence of god, insinuating that that's how the solar system got the way it is.

It's a good argument, but still flawed. It's oversimplified. Gravity is what made the planets and the sun and the moons and all that stuff. Gravity is what keeps it turning, circling and churning through the cosmic dance. Does that make gravity god? I'll then go on to quote the Hitchhiker's Guide, where god says "I refuse to prove that I exist, for proof denies faith and without faith I am nothing." Thinking logically, well, proving to oneself that god exists is to prove its nonexistence. There's nothing like a catch-22, is there?

The importance of reading labels, part 1:

I've been trying to eat better, as a part of my training for the MS Ride, so I've learned to really pay attention to labels.

Sadly, on something I ate today, I missed a big, bad, important thing. My stomach is now sharing the results with me.

Let's just say I'll be more careful in the future.

If I were a believer, I would know I was going to hell.

My best friend e-mailed me earlier this afternoon, with an advert selling the "officially licensed" Passion of the Cross Nail pendant, a single 1-7/8 inch nail on a 20 inch cord. Her entire text in the e-mail was "what's wrong with this?"

My response was short, and simple:

Well, for one thing, you need two more.

Secondly, there's no way that'll go through both ankles.

Yep. I am pure evil.

Feelings absurdly studious.

I've been, get this, reading ahead for one of my classes. It's the only class that I'm not already pretty damn good at. I'm good, but I haven't had any formal training, that kind of thing. I'm pretty sure I can handle the other two classes. Easy as cake.

But, I will say this for my sudden good-studentism- I feel better about class tonight. I feel like I'll be better prepared. I know the instructor, and I know that he's tough, so I'm just trying to keep abreast of the situation. Besides, I know that I can impress him, which makes for a good recommendation when I decide to go for my master's in Computer Game Programming.

Yeah, right. If it's taken me almost 12 years to get my bachelor's degree, who the hell believes that I can get a MS? Not me.

About Last Night...

It was my last night of freedom before my school term starts(tonight). How did I spend such an important evening?

I did laundry. I made tacos for the roommate and I. I fell asleep on the couch before I finished my laundry. I went to bed early.

This is pretty damn lame, friends and neighbors.

I try not to poke fun, but...

...the name of the archaeologist from this article is just too funny. Notice how throughout the article, the author only refers to him by his last name.

That's funny.

Redemption Song and the 100 year war, part II.

Redemption Song is stuck in my head. This isn't that big a problem, I love that song, but I won't be able to listen to it until I get home from work, which is still 9 hours away. So much for emancipating myself from mental slavery.

And on the 100 years war(again), promised to us by a certain Venezuelan leader. Seems like someone forgot that we still have a raving lunatic in the White House. Let's not tempt fate, ok?

And at this point, I'd like you all to release a simultaneous groan.

Oy.

Game shows and the 100 year war.

I told my roommate this weekend that I have to stop watching game shows. I spend too much time being annoyed with either stupidity, bad planning, or the general format. I yell, scream, pace the floor, and criticize beyond all reason. I am an asshole.

Now, there's this other article that I read this morning. I worry about the state of the world, just like anybody else. Especially now that America is the only superpower. I worry because we do have way too much power, and as well all know, absolute power corrupts absolutely. So, is this Chavez guy trying to boost GW's polls by trying to sucker us into another war? That's my conspiracy theory for the day.

I'll fully admit to my own megalomaniacal feelings, but I've wasted more than 10 years of my life playing games like Civilization and skipping classes and the like so I could just finally end that war with the [insert rival civ's name here], or stay up just another hour so I could get that spacecraft built. It's helped to curb me from a would-be dictator to a Saturday afternoon gamer. Is it possible that Saddam or GWB or Lenin could have just been a regular guy if he had spent his sophomore year of college glued to his computer screen, fending off barbarians and colonizing continents in cyberspace? We'll never know. It's been many a time that I've been poised to invade a weaker country because I needed something that they weren't willing to give me. I've had my ICBM's and stealth bombers and tanks and marines and everything parked on their borders, ready to go at a moment's notice, sure, but I try to be diplomatic. Then, of course, I realize that it's just a game, and there's really no reason to be so romantic about it. And I usually then realize what an enormous geek I am. Then I blow shit up. It's easy to do when it isn't real people. Maybe that's what these guys need- a couple weekends facing the moral dilemas in a simulated world instead of fucking up everything for real.

Anyways. That didn't make much sense. I'll stop rambling.

Appealing to the computer gods for help:

Programming gods, please grant me the patience to make great programs and the wisdom to not call up companies and ask for their code to connect to my own programs and annoying the piss out of tech support personnel.

The moral of the story:

Just ask for what you want. We'll do our best to see if it's possible.

The Adventures of Kilt Guy, Part III

I wasn't going to blog this either, but after cruising through one of my many news sites, I couldn't resist.

At my friend A's birthday party, there was a picture taken up a certain bald man's kilt. Let's just say that the developed picture is a touch revealing(I was not going regimental), and has been placed on display on my refrigerator door. Plans to incorporate this picture into my friendster or myspace accounts are in progress.

So, there's this guy in Michigan, who has worn a kilt every day since August of 2002. Not bad. Makes people like me seem a little less crazy. The best part of the whole situation is where he gets his kilts. They sell kilts for the "working man." Makes me wish I was still working construction, frankly. I miss those days. The site is worth going to, if only to see the picture of a guy wearing a kilt with a welding mask.

The start of a new week.

I have to admit that I'm not looking forward to this week. Not at all. I'm not excited about starting school again. I'm not excited about working this week.

I could use a vacation, but there won't be one for quite some time. 15 weeks, to be exact. I think I might try to go to Oregon or something fun like that. I have a friend out there I'd really like to see again.

In search of the Angriest Man in Chicago

Well, I'm right here, but I'm not terribly angry. I don't think I will be for a while.

More news on this when I feel more assured about the news. I know. I'm too cryptic. It's my style.

Today has been busy, or this afternoon was busy. I've managed to get groceries, even stuff that's good for me. Next on the list: laundry. It seems to me that I do laundry far too often. If I still have time before pub quiz, I'll try to clean up around the house, which really needs to be done.

A happy twist of events...

Today is a good day. Good and hung over, but still good.

My best foot-putting-down still got me out closing the late bar. My friends are trying to kill me. Slowly, for sure, but trying nonetheless.

Success!

I have finally procured a photoshopped GWBush/Bonaparte picture!

Extra special thanks to J. for creating said picture! You kick ass!
I am so damn happy!

In other news, you've got enough damn money, pal.

If I were a better artist...

This is something I thought of yesterday, but for some reason, it was shuffled under the rug until this morning. I've seen bits of the new GWB campaign ad, and the part I'm still focused on is "I know where I want to lead this country."

I put it to all of you who are decent artists to draw a cartoon of GWB dressed up as Napoleon. I'd love it, and if you send it to me, I'll find a way to post it for all to see.

Those who do not know history are doomed to repeat it:

Finally, someone has dug through the national archives and put together a very important History of the Pingu.

Life is good.

Friday Five

What was...

1. ...your first grade teacher's name?
Mrs. Zimmermann. I think her first name was Kathy, which is ironic, as that's my mother's name, too.

2. ...your favorite Saturday morning cartoon?
I was always a huge Bugs Bunny fan. But I watched them all. My brother and I used to get really mad when the Falkland Island War news would break in.

3. ...the name of your very first best friend?
Brian Weber, who moved away when I was 8. I got to visit him a few years later, but we've completely lost track of each other.

4. ...your favorite breakfast cereal?
When I was a kid, I loved Lucky Charms. Loved 'em. In college, I began combining cereals: Honey Nut Cheerios, Golden Grahams, Captain Crunch and Cinnamon Life. It was the best mix ever. Now, I sometimes eat the Honey Nut Cheerios, but it's been a while.

5. ...your favorite thing to do after school?
Well, this is a little, um, ya know...
We used to have snowball fights. A lot. It was St. Paul. It's cold and snowy there.

The big move...

After only two months and 2 days working here, they've moved my desk.

Don't worry, it's not to the basement or anything like that. They didn't hand me a can of raid and a flashlight, nothing like that. It's just down the hall, if you will, from where I was with a slightly better view.

Now, if you replace hall with line of half-cubicles, and slightly better view with crappy view, then you've got it right.

Let's party!

I'm just not pagan enough...

To know what phase the moon is in, but I'm pretty sure it's gotta be close to being full.

Today, sadly, has been weird question day, and by weird, I mean, beyond-all-comprehension type weird.

I can't even explain it properly, that's how weird it is. And I know weird.

My suggestion to those who wish to use online trading:

Learn how to use your fuckin' computer first. Then, maybe, you can function a website(provided you know what one is) and then, maybe, you can trade online.

Until you've learned to use your computer, don't bother. Really.

Sorry. I had to vent.

And, finally, birthday wishes.

I failed to publicly acknowledge my friend A's offical birthday on Tuesday. I apologize and wish her a happy one(again).

Today is my little brother's 28th birthday. Happy birthday to my little bro, from yer big bro.

The Passion of the Angry Dave

It has risen.

I wasn't in that bad a mood yesterday, even though I saw my train heading away as I was walking to the station. That didn't bug me too much. I knew there would be another train soon.

What got to me was when I got home, there was a flier from As Seen on TV University telling me that my last chances to register were yesterday from 3pm-7pm, Friday from 10am-3pm, and Monday from 10am-7pm. Needless to say, I was more than angry when I noticed that the postmark indicated that it was mailed yesterday. This was when the spark became a flame.

After realizing that I would have no chance to get into anything I wanted on Monday, I had to go then. I called my best friend, made arrangements to borrow her car for the night(as I didn't want to carry heavy textbooks nearly two miles), and I headed to school to get all matriculated. It was there that I discover how screwed up they are. I sent in my request to resume some 2 weeks ago. They didn't process it. Grand. Lovely. Got that straightened out. I went to Financial Aid, they still haven't fixed the default that one of my loan companies put on while I was in classes. Got that fixed. Paid some $205.91 because they haven't sent me any bills for, well, 9 months or so. Thanks, guys. I appreciate it. I head to Student Services to prove to them that I have insurance. They're nice, but they're also the department that kept me out of last term, because I couldn't get there during their office hours to prove that I had insurance. I tell them that, and they laugh it off. Again, thanks guys.

Next up: Academics. Thanks largely to myself, I have been in school so long that the curriculum has changed. Again. I now need to take all these extra classes. I'm not terribly mad about this, as I'll be learning the "cutting edge" programs like C# and VB.NET, so I let it slide. My advisors at this station, by the way, are two old professors of mine. We chat, we reminisce, we have fun. Next up: Data Entry. But oh wait! There's a mysterious, hidden step they don't tell you about. You have to stop and get approved. No one says this, except the person who's determined that she's the boss. I was annoyed. My suggestion to put an official step in between scheduling and data entry falls on deaf ears, which doesn't surprise me. Schools are notorious for ignoring decent suggestions that help the student. I finally get to data entry. My schedule is input. My schedule prints out. I must be insane, trying to take 17 credits and work full time.

I buy my books. I head home. I eat. I step down to the bar and have a couple drinks as a nightcap, and as a minor celebration of the end of my free-wheelin' weeknights, as I don't have any more for 15 weeks.

Barf.

The dangers of driving, Part II:

Ok. I couldn't leave it alone. I know.

The Assistant State's Attourney says:

"His pants could have been down because he was mooning a car he was drag racing. His pants could have been down because he was urinating out of a window. His pants could have been down because he wasn't feeling well."

Well, I'm no law-talking-guy, as Lionel Hutz would say, but it seems to me that then the driver, with his pants down for whatever reason, would probably have done more to cause the accident.

I mean, c'mon. Has he never heard of a zipper?

Enough. I know.

Now for something completely different...

BULLSHIT!

The dangers of driving.

Ok. I don't have much to say about this, but it's something that should be shared.

I can name all the jobs I would never take in one line.

Any job at the CME. It's just off the hook. Completely. There's a sea of people, all shouting at each other. It's kinda scary.

Except in the Lumber pit. That's like a box social. No one's doing a damn thing, except nicely talking to one another.

Field Trip Day!

Remember when you were a kid and you just lived for a field trip? I'm going through that right now. It's fun.

I get to go to the Chicago Mercantile Exchange today, to see how this whole thing works. Should be interesting, probably even scary, I would think.

I hope I can bump into my friend who works in that building, too.

Boy, I love field trips.

I don't want to sound like an elitist intellectual tech support guru or anything, but...

Why is it so fucking hard to answer the very, very simple question "are you using the website?"

You'd be surprised how often(multiple times an hour) I encounter people who don't even realize that they're online, using a website to trade on the markets.

And people are worried about HS seniors not being able to find Florida on a map? Shit, I think we've got a bigger problem here.

Boy, I wish I worked at Harvard!

I have to admit, it's one hell of a way to protest- students, mostly naked, having a pillow fight outside, near Harvard. It's also one hell of a way to get me thinking.

I was watching the local news on my PBS station last night, and they were, yet again, discussing the Janet Jackson boob "scandal." I know, I know, every blogger in America has probably mentioned this enough times to make you sick of it, and well, frankly, I just want to mention it again. The discussion was with local shock-jock Mancow Mueller and one of those annoying we-can't-do-this-or-say-that people. They were originally talking about Howard Stern's recent suspension, but then they got to the topic of Janet Jackson. Oh boy. Mancow, despite being an egomaniacal asswipe, and I are in agreement.

It seems to me that we're too hung up on too much stuff in this country already. In Europe(so I've heard) there's naked people in TV commercials. Why are we so hung up on nudity?

I don't mind being naked. I don't mind seeing naked people. I swear, too, and I am very rarely offended by people who swear. Same goes for talking about sex. Most all of my friends are like this as well.

So, what is everyone's hang up? I don't get it.

I'm sorry- I felt this was going to be a much more directed post, but it's not. I wavered from thought over the course of my entry. It's my fault. Call the FCC on me, and get me suspended. I fuckin' deserve it.

Maybe the "good lord" needs to look out for me, too.

Intensity in Ten Cities

I just spent about 75 minutes sitting at one of our trade desks.

I got a whole new respect for folks who do that job. It's rough. It's intense. It's crazy.

I have a headache which I got just from watching.

Scary.

In the news:

They list this as sad, but for some of us, it's a source or pride. Namely me. By the way, not only can we out draw those jokers, we can beat them, any day.

People are strange, and some of them should be fired for being strange. This guy is one of them.

Some people will do anything to have a kid, and some fire marshals need to do more work before pronouncing someone dead. Congrats on finding each other again, though.

Last, but not least, let's be sure to practice safe sex, but let's still be careful while practicing, ok?

Further penguin abuse.

I'm proud to announce that I have made the top 10,000 scores on the Orca Slap Game. I'm at this moment #9036 with 623.1.

I've received a few e-mails from friends who have done as good, but I'm on the list.

Tee-hee.

I'm not going to Disneyland, though. I'm anti-Disney.

My "secret" is to hit the pingu before he goes into the twisting arc- right after the Orca flings him, that's when I strike.
Too fun.

Close (To the Edit)

This is what's been causing my good mood lately. It's the song by Art of Noise. As I remember, the video involved members of the band and a young girl dancing around destroying musical instruments.

It was one of the defining moments of my life.

So, having so recently downloaded this gem of the 80's, I am happy.

On the continuing abuse of penguins by the Yeti.

This, my dear friends and readers, is the new sensation. Play Orca Slap.

It's hard to get used, to, but frankly, once you do, it's all you'll want to do.

I barely stopped long enough to blog the link.

Enjoy!

Do you suppose it'll include an amendment against gay marriage?

Just wondering.

The Adventures of Kilt Guy, Part II

I wasn't going to blog about this, because I'm trying to be a nicer person, at least to strangers, by trying to give them the benefit of the doubt(it's my way of reconciling with the fact that I think people are idiots from 7-3:30, Mon-Fri, you know, the whole "don't take your work home with you" mantra).

Saturday, as I was heading out of my house to go to my friend's b-day party, I was walking down my block when a couple who had apparently just left the nearby Cuban restaurant came walking towards me. They were talking, rather loudly(alcohol does tend to make people deaf) and naturally, when you're walking down a darkish street in Chicago in February and you see a bald man in a kilt wearing a sportcoat, the conversation turned to your humble narrator. This is when I overheard the very directed comment of "freak."

I'm not one to take insults from idiots, but I'm also not one to not defend my honor. This made for a perplexing situation to me. The following is the retort that my mind's eye saw happening, which undoubtedly would have resulted in fisticuffs:

I apologize if you think I'm freakish for wearing the traditional clothing of my ancestors. Just because it doesn't match the grey shirts with red, white and black armbands that your ancestors wore, doesn't mean I'm a freak.

Fortunately, my urge to beat him down subsided. This is for the best, as I was wearing my infamous shitkickers.

The only other person to make fun of me(at least that I could see) was a woman driving down Ashland Avenue as I jaywalked across, who really had nothing to laugh at, as she was in a small car with 6 kids. She wasn't too pretty, either.

All my friends called me words like "dashing," "handsome," "sexy," and even "hot."

Yeah.

So, is this by invite only?
Or: where can I sign up?

A guy in Seattle wins beer drinker of the year, including an ugly t-shirt and a lifetime supply of Wynkoop beer, a brewery in Colorado who was nice enough to revive my favorite author's grandfather's recipe.

I've got a whole lot of friends who would probably make the competition a whole lot harder. We're talking droves.

In an not-so-amusing, rather scary, but still related to drinking story, this dumbass definitely needs some serious adjustments. I mean, well, it's just too much work to rant about her. Read the story, you'll see how I get frustrated.

It's amazing what people will do.

Now why didn't I think of that?

This kid makes me laugh. It's not a stunt that I would necessarily have pulled, but that doesn't mean that I wouldn't laugh at what he did.

People are way to damn serious.

My baby takes the morning train, too, ya know.

Ok, I don't have a baby, but it's a nice sentiment. My train was late this morning, which in turn, made me late. Not to worry, I'm in a good mood.

Last night was a good pub quiz. We had 50 people come in to play, and it was Oscar night. It was a damn good thing that I worked it, too, because the Quizmaster would have been swamped. What I really got a kick out of was the fact that there was a party going on in our regular room, so we had to use a different part of the pub. The private party was for The Princeton Review, the company that formerly employed a certain redhead I know, and is also the direct competition for the company I wasted 10 years of my life working for.

I shit you not. It was a cosmic type of thing.

In other news, I broke $1700 in my MS Fundraising. That's part of the reason I'm in such a good mood.

Yay.